


A Superior Being

by MemoriesofMiltia



Category: Trigun
Genre: And now I'm actually taking it seriously, Especially since Legato's a main character here, F/M, I half-blame my great friend for this mess, I'm not tagging anything for now, I'm so sorry about Chapter 3 it's a monster, Self-insert (ish), Since I don't know what might show up later, This goddamn monstrosity was born at three a.m. in the morning as a joke, self-shipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoriesofMiltia/pseuds/MemoriesofMiltia
Summary: After exchanging a few letters with my friend, Gabby, about her relationship with Vash and her worries about what might happen to them whenever Legato decides to really get serious with them, I half-joke about tricking Legato into thinking I'm a 'superior being' and seducing him so that he'll leave them alone for a little while. With her approval, I rope Wolfwood, our mutual friend, into our scheme.Except that it starts to become more serious.Except that I start to fall in love with a man who might destroy me if he learned what I actually was and what I was doing.





	1. A Conversation

“Let me get this straight.” Wolfwood says, his tone disbelieving. “You want me to help you trick Legato into thinking you’re some kind of mythical creature so that he’ll focus on you. And you honestly believe that you’ll be able to seduce him and change his mind about humanity. Even though he’s more goddamn stubborn than Needle Noggin and worships Knives down to the last decomposing skin cell.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous.” You reply with a sigh, still wondering whether this half-joke should remain a joke. “It is ridiculous. It’s probably not going to work. I just want to help Gabby out. She doesn’t feel like she can handle all of Legato’s plans, and I thought that if I could seduce him, they could both have a happier ending.”

“Well, at least it doesn’t sound like you’re a complete shit-for-brains. At least it sounds like you’re acknowledging that Vash will still have to deal with his brother.” He pauses for a moment to gulp down some coffee, and you honestly can’t say which is more bitter-the coffee or Wolfwood’s expression. “How the hell did you even figure out Chapel’s my boss and he’s working with Legato? I don’t think even Vash’s figured that out yet.”

“I honestly don’t know anything about Chapel. But Gabby did say in one of her letters that Vash thought you might be up to something that involved Legato. There aren’t too many priests who carry guns in their crosses, and someone like that sounds right up Legato’s alley. He just didn’t want you to know that he suspected anything, in case you changed your mind and really turned over a new leaf.” Before he replies, Wolfwood takes another drag on his cigarette, a tired expression on his face, though the smoke hides it for a moment as he exhales.

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve got my own goals and motivations. I can’t just change because Spiky doesn’t like it. Besides, someone has to be man enough to pull the trigger until Mr. Chickenshit learns his lesson. And we both know that he’s gonna have to learn it at some point, right? He can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know. Believe me, we’re both on the same page here. I’m not exactly relishing the thought of Legato killing all three of us ahead of schedule because we pissed him off. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want Gabby to die. I certainly don’t want to die yet, and I don’t want to put Vash, Meryl, and Milly through that. But..I think we can both agree that it’d be best if Vash learned his lesson from someone who’d get far less satisfaction from it.”

“Probably. Though I will say that I can’t think of too many downsides to killing Legato. The sorry son of a bitch has to go. Vash would break down for awhile, but..he does have to learn that some people just can’t be saved. Plus, we’d live longer, humanity would still be around, warts and all, our goals might actually be achieved, and Meryl wouldn’t blow her fucking brains out writing up all the reports Legato would incur.” He says, a wry smile on his face.

“What if Vash didn’t recover, though?” You shoot back, your tone as penetrating as an arrow. You keep going, knowing that Wolfwood’s probably thought of that outcome more times than the both of you can count and that you’re going to need more if you really want to guilt him into going along with your ridiculous plans. “What if he never recovered because he smashed his own foundation? What if he tried to kill himself or let someone kill him because he couldn’t live with himself anymore? Because he’d become just like his brother and failed Rem or thought that Knives was right instead of her and couldn’t bear it? And even if he did recover, think about what Gabby would go through. Think about how Meryl and Milly would feel. They’d be devastated, and while I’m sure they’d do their best to help him, their words would probably come up short. My words might come up short. And you would feel like a Judas who convinced Jesus to shoot the Devil in the head and then had to hear God wailing in your ears for the rest of your life. I’m not putting you all through that. You’re my friends.” 

You pause for a moment, just long enough for Wolfwood to chew and digest everything you’ve said and have a third puff on his cig, but not long enough for him to reply. You’re not finished yet. “Think of it like this: whether or not we stop him, Legato will still probably kill us and the people we care about, and our goals will still remain undone. Vash is still going to suffer at some point, and the Knives problem isn’t going to go away. Vash is going to have to deal with him eventually, whether he likes it or not. But, if we try and succeed, at least Vash might suffer a little bit less. We all might suffer a little bit less. He and Gabby might be able to keep being happy together. And, if we succeed, you won’t be involved with Legato anymore. That should be a weight or two off your conscious. And, at the very least, if we’re able to fool him for a little while, at least we’ll die having really pissed Legato off. That’s probably an expression worth seeing.” You finish, giving Wolfwood the best devilish grin you can muster as he puts out his cigarette, a pensive expression on his face. For a few moments, he doesn’t reply. He simply takes a long gulp of coffee and closes his eyes as he exhales and sets his mug back down, thinking the whole thing over. Eventually, though, he sighs and opens his eyes again, a wicked grin on his face. You have to try to grin like an imp from Hell, but he’s the real deal.

“Fuck it, I’m in. If I’m a Demon, I might as well die being the best Demon I can be. Lord knows Legato deserves a stab in the ass.” You suspect Wolfwood’s going to be more cautious about this than that, but, since he’s agreeing to throw in with this ridiculous scheme, you keep your mouth shut. “So, what kind of ‘superior being’ do you wanna be?” He asks, lighting another cigarette and putting it to his mouth.

“Gabby and I were joking about me pretending to be a vampire, but I’m not sure how well I’d be able to pull that off. I’m terrified of blood and..veins. I can’t even focus on my own veins too much without creeping myself out. If I were a real vampire, I’d starve, and I’ll probably fail any vampire test Legato throws at me.”

“Well, how about a Siren?” Wolfwood suggests, blowing out his smoke.

“They’re supposed to be part bird in Greek mythology. And I’m a terrible singer. Legato wouldn’t be fooled for three minutes.”

“Good point.” Wolfwood thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers and grinning. “I got it! A Changeling! How ‘bout that?!”

“Absolutely not.” You reply, your voice firm. “I have Asperger’s, Wolfwood. Not only is it a cliché, it’s one with negative connotations. I think we can do this without resorting to that.”

“We don’t have a lot of options, and we don’t have a lot of goddamn time. We can’t spend three fuckin’ weeks hashing out ideas. We’ll even say that Angels abandoned you or something if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t have any other good ideas. Unless you’ve managed to come up with something that’ll actually work and make you completely happy in the last three minutes.”

“No,” You sigh, knowing you’re beat here, even if you hate to admit it, “I haven’t. I’ll be a Changeling, but it might be best not to say that the Angels left me. Legato might start thinking I’m a Nephilim, and that would cause problems.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the story vague enough to suggest that just because the Angels abandoned you doesn’t mean that you’re their child. Right now, we just have to focus on getting a good pair of wings on you.” Like you haven’t been in surgery enough. Like you enjoy having your body messed with.

The things you’ll do for the happiness of your friends.


	2. Growing Wings

It takes Wolfwood about two weeks until he can set you up with an underground doctor that’s trustworthy, discreet, and clean. “Trust me, this guy isn’t going to rat us out. I wouldn’t have hired him if I thought he’d blow our cover.” Wolfwood tells you as he drives you to the place in the dead of night, and while you enjoy the way the wind blows through you and how ridiculously fast you both are going, it’s hard to fully enjoy the experience when the desert cold is biting into you, and since it’s your first time on a motorcycle, you have to cling to Wolfwood for dear life so that you don’t fall off.

“You’re not allowed to kill him when he’s done so that he doesn’t talk.” You yell, raising your voice above the roar of the engine. “We might need him later. And he doesn’t deserve it anyway.”

“What are you, Vash?!” He yells back, and you can’t tell whether he’s half-teasing you or being completely serious. “Sometimes you have to kill people! Even people who are probably trustworthy, just in case you’re wrong!”

“You’ve been with a lot of unscrupulous people. Your boss is Legato, for God’s sake! I think you should trust your instincts more!” And the guy does seem trustworthy, once you got to him. He looks like a thirty-year-old man with short, purple hair and glasses. Of course, since he’s underground, your destination wasn’t a medical office, but the place he actually worked, a robotics facility and shop.

“We’re small, and this is an expensive field, so we need all the money we can get. That’s part of the reason I started this up too. You don’t have anything to worry about, though. I was an actual medical doctor for a few years before robotics called to me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“And if he does kill you,” Wolfwood says, “I’ll kill him.” That gets a little chuckle out of you, even as you play along with the joke and tell him that he shouldn’t kill the guy.

“Rob him instead. God knows you need the money.” When it comes to the actual medical pre-talk, the man sounds like he knows what he’s doing, explaining that while he can’t give you a retractable pair of wings, he could give you a small pair of metal wings that looked like they’d come from a miniature Angel.

“Not a Cherub, but not a Seraph either. They’d look like they’d come from something in-between. I know you wanted a version that was retractable, but that’s just not possible. There isn’t enough space in the Human body for retractable wings. We can make them look like feathery wings while you’re out, though. That’s not too difficult. You can even pick the color, if you want. So, will you go through with it?”

“Doesn’t sound like we’ve got a choice.” Wolfwood grumbles before turning to you. “How ‘bout it? You’re the one going through all this.”

“Alright.” You tell them, hoping that this will all work out, that Gabby will be able to get what she wants, and that you’ll be able to fool your co-workers and everyone else back home. Or, at the very least, convince them to go along with it and not reveal anything to Legato. “I’ll do it. Could you make my wings violet, though?”

“You bet.” The doctor tells you, smiling. About an hour later, you’re sitting in a cozy chair in the waiting room, wearing a homemade medical robe, embarrassing openings in the back and everything, with an I.V. in your arm. Since this guy had actually been a medical doctor once, he actually stuck to procedure and made you strip off your clothes, underwear and all. “I know it’s embarrassing,” the doctor said before you went into the bathroom to change, “but it lets do my work a lot more easily. Every little thing helps in a procedure like this. And it’ll make things easier for you, too, if you don’t have to come up with a good story for the bloodstains.” Normally, you might have told Wolfwood to beat the doctor if he caught him sniffing your underwear, but you’re not dumb enough to say that right in front of the guy who’s going to attach metal wings to your back, so you just went along with it, changed, and then went to go sit in the waiting room. 

Wolfwood was already there, abstaining from a smoke for once, and after you sat down next to him, you handed him your clothes. Normally, you might have asked him to help you tie the back of your gown before you sat down, but there wasn’t any point in asking him that when the doctor was just going to untie it soon. It’s not like you’d be staying here for a week and a half.

“If I find out that you’ve been messing with my clothes, I’ll cut off your hand.”

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He quipped back, a grin on his face and your clothes in his lap. “I don’t think any of our friends would be happy with that. And what would I tell Legato if he asked about my hand? ‘Ah, I’m sorry. My fucking crazy friend cut it off because she thought I was jerking off into her underwear while we were waiting for her to go into surgery to get fake wings so that she could try to seduce you.’”

“You say that like he wouldn’t enjoy killing you too.” You tossed back, smiling and hoping that the doctor would come back soon so that you didn’t have to deal with your breezy gown any longer.

“And you would go down with me. Besides, if I really wanted to mess with someone’s underwear, I wouldn’t fucking mess with yours while I was waiting for you to get out of surgery. I’m not that goddamn desperate. I’ve got other options.”

“Well,” You replied, not having anything else to say, but knowing that it would feel awkward if you didn’t end the conversation, “good. I’m glad to hear that.” Since neither of you had anything else to say, you both sat there in silence, waiting for the doctor to arrive, Wolfwood wishing he could have a smoke, and you feeling like an idiot for not bringing a book to read. You’ve been through surgery before. You should’ve known better by now. Finally, after what felt like a thousand years, the doctor came in, dragging a medical pole with an I.V. attached with him.

“Sorry about the wait.” He said as he walked up to you, the pole on your left side, separating you and Wolfwood. “The prep always takes longer than people think it will. You said you had a mediport, right?”

“I do, but I should warn you that I tend to scream, and I have a horrible fear of blood, so I’m just going to close my eyes and look away when you stick me.” You replied, already closing your eyes and turning your head to the right, just in case some stupid urge to look won out and made you open them.

“Alright.” The doctor replied, sounding more chipper about that than any normal person would. Maybe it’s just a doctor thing, since you’ve only ever heard doctors reply to that bit of news like you told them you just won a stuffed animal out of a claw machine. Maybe it’s a way of trying to calm the patient down, but it only makes you feel like they’re not really acknowledging your issues. “That’s not a problem. You’ll probably be out five minutes after I stick you anyway. I’ll tell you when I’m about to do it, so you can go ahead and look away.” That’s another thing that always happens-they never seem to notice when you’ve already closed your eyes. 

As the doctor felt for the port, you gripped the arms of the chair to try and relieve some of your tension and terror, even as you felt like a small, cornered rabbit, unable to stop yourself from twitching in your chair, every cell in your primitive brain screaming for you to run, to jump out of the chair and run away before they stick you with a needle. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear Wolfwood getting up and walking over to your right side so that he could loosen your hand from the chair arm. You squeezed his like a starving python, ready to devour a meal, and if he was in pain, he didn’t let it show. He just tried to sound easygoing.

“Easy there. It’ll be over before you know it, and then you’ll be out like a light.” Almost immediately after, the doctor piped up, and you tensed up automatically.

“Alright, three, two, one.” On one, he stabbed in, and you screamed like he just chopped off your pinky finger, the pain lancing through you. As you recovered, Wolfwood patted your hand, and while you were happy that he was here, helping out with this, you felt like he was being a bit patronizing.

“Hey, you did great. Don’t look yet, though. The Doc’s still cleaning it up.” Thankfully, the scream helps get the pain all out of your system, so by the time you could look, the I.V. was in and clean, covered by a clear, plastic medical wrap.

“Alright, off we got. See you in a bit!” The doctor calls to Wolfwood, using one hand to push you out of the room (it’s a good thing you’re sitting in a wheeled chair), and the other to drag the I.V. along.

“See you! Good luck!” Wolfwood waves back. You manage to see a few rooms and hallways of the facility before you completely black out without even realizing it.

When you wake up, you’re lying on your stomach, conscious, but too tired to open your eyes or talk. You can’t hear anything, so you guess that you’re not in the wee hours of the morning, but you have no idea whether Wolfwood or the doctor are nearby or not. Eventually, you manage to speak, your voice faint and raspy.

“Wolfwood? Are you there?”

“I’m sitting right next to you with your clothes, which are completely unharmed, as promised.” You manage a weak little laugh and smile at that, though you don’t know whether or not Wolfwood can see it.

“Thanks. How..how did it go?”

“Went without a hitch. If I didn’t know you before the surgery, I’d seriously think you were an Angel’s child myself. The doctor says that you’ll even be able to glide with it for short periods after a couple of days. He’ll give us the buttons for that before we go. You take it easy, though. You just woke up.” Normally, you’d want to try the flight capabilities of your new wings immediately, but you’re too tired for that. You only just start to feel your wings as Wolfwood speaks. It feels like two feathery arms were attached to your back while you were passed out. You just quietly reply as you lie there, too tired to move.

“Alright.” After awhile, you finally have enough energy to slowly open your eyes, though they still feel groggy, like someone tried to seal them shut with glue and grit. From what little you can see in front of you, it looks like a very small, Spartan bedroom, though you don’t really know why a bedroom would be in a robotics facility. As you turn your head to the right, you see Wolfwood sitting right next to you, your clothes still in his lap and a small dresser tucked in the corner behind him, and as he notices that you’re able to look at him now, he gives you a little wave and a small grin that seems genuine. “Wolfwood..where are we, exactly?”

“The doctor’s private bedroom. He and a few of the other engineers work overnight sometimes if they have a project they want to or have to finish, so they just crash here when they’re done and keep going when they wake up. He just lets his clients use his whenever he’s performing surgery on someone.”

“Ah. Alright, then.” You lie there for a few more minutes, seeing but unmoving, but eventually, you manage to sit up and put your legs over the side of the bed, wondering whether or not you’ll have enough energy to grab onto Wolfwood when you two leave on his bike, careful not to touch your back in any way as you move about. Your wings still feel weird, but you get more and more used to them as more energy comes back into your system. They still feel artificial, like how a tree might feel if you stuck metal or plastic limbs in it, but it’s not completely like they’re some nebulous thing. Just a little, now. Maybe about sixty percent. Wolfwood drums his fingers on his leg as he watches you, still probably craving a smoke. How long has he gone without one if he’s been waiting for and watching over you all this time? Maybe he managed to sneak out and get one while the doctor was working on you.

“Feel like you can stand up? You don’t have to put your clothes on yet, but you might like a look of your wings in the bathroom. I gotta say, they’re really somethin’.”

“I..I think I can stand.” As you slowly stand up, your legs still shaky, still wishing that the back of your gown was tied up, you flinch a little at the feel of your new, fluffy wings across your shoulders, arms, and back. Not that you hate the sensation (it’s quite nice, really), but it takes you by surprise. Wolfwood stands up with you, tucking your clothes under his left arm. He doesn’t offer you his right hand, but it’s freely available, just in case you need it, as he follows you outside of the bathroom, though he doesn’t go in with you. Not that you think you’ll really need him, since you were able to walk to the bathroom just fine, and you’re just in here to see how your wings look. 

You walk right in front of the first mirror above the sink and pause for a few moments so that you can completely take in what you see before smiling to yourself and turning around so that you can see your new wings from all sorts of different angles. They look gorgeous, like some wondrous fairy gave them to you as a reward for helping her out. You have no idea how they dyed the wings, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they were colored with melted amethysts. Maybe it’s just the light, your excitement, or both, but they really do seem to shimmer and shine like gems. Ever since you were a little kid, you dreamed of having wings, and now that dream has come true, even if they are fake, and even if you did only get them so that you could try to seduce a man who completely loathes humanity in order to give your friend, her potential boyfriend, and humanity at large some happiness. Nothing about those two facts can stop you from grinning like a tired madman as you come out of the bathroom, and when Wolfwood sees your expression, he gives you a sly grin like an imp who’s completely satisfied with his prank as he hands you back your clothes.

“Worth waiting a whole two weeks for, huh?”

“Absolutely.” You reply, and you start to head back into the bathroom to change, but you stop and turn back to Wolfwood, remembering an important problem that you didn’t think of beforehand. “Wolfwood,” you ask, “how am I going to wear this shirt?”

“Ah, shit.” He curses, the grin replaced by a little, troubled frown. “Give it here, Livvy. We’ll take care of it somehow.” Without a word, you hand your shirt back to him, and he gives you a little wave as he speedwalks off, only slowing down long enough to tell you that he’ll be right back before rushing off. With nothing better to do, you wait, tired, chilly, and a little hungry. You have no idea what Wolfwood’s meal plans are right now, but you could go for some curry or pizza. It feels like a long, boring eternity until Wolfwood comes back, but when he does, he gives you back your shirt once more, and while the alterations are amateurish, it now looks more or less like a halter top, though it’ll expose more of your back than a regular halter top might, on account of your wings. “Sorry ‘bout the wait! Took us for fuckin’ ever to fix that shirt, but you should be able to wear it now. Of course, if it doesn’t fit, you could just come back topless. You gotta admit, that’d be a hell of an image, a topless Angel riding with a priest on a motorbike.” He teases, the grin back on his face.

“It would be,” you start, your tone disbelieving, “but I don’t want random people or you to see my tits. And it’s going to be even harder to conceal myself until Legato arrives if I go about without a shirt entirely.” With that, you finally slip back into the bathroom and get changed, feeling a bit more warm and cozy now that you’ve got some proper clothes on. Of course, your top feels chilly, but that can’t be helped. You’ll have to remember to get someone to help you modify your clothes when you get back home. You don’t want them all to be halter tops, of course, but you want wings slits in all your shirts, at the very least.

When you come out of the bathroom, the two of you meet the doctor back in the waiting room, and you give him back the medial robe while he gives you a small, black, plastic device with a few grey buttons on it before describing what each button does.

“The first one will make your wings flap, the second one will make them twitch, like you’re disgusted or frightened about something, and the third one will start the glide sequence. I wouldn’t recommend that you press that button while you’re indoors, but, if you do, make sure you fly outside as quickly as you can. If you have any problems or want any modifications done, just let me know, and I’ll take care of it. What do you think of them, though? Do they feel alright?”

“I think so.” You reply. “I just think it’ll take me a few days to get used to them. But they really do look lovely. Really, thank you so much for helping us out with this.”

“Anytime. I’m just glad to help.” He replies, smiling. With that, you three bid your goodbyes, and you and Wolfwood head outside again, over to his motorcycle. You have a little bit more strength in your limbs now, but Wolfwood still stays beside you, just in case, and when the two of you reach his bike, he scratches his head in dismay, a little annoyed, but not at you.

“Shit. Sorry about this.” He apologizes, his tone a bit gruff. “I can’t believe I didn’t even think about this. Think you’ll be alright riding with me again?” He asks, turning his attention to you.

“Even if I didn’t, we don’t have much of a choice. But I think I’ll be okay, so long as you don’t mind me holding onto you like you’re a sturdy piece of wood while a tornado blows by.” That probably sounds a bit awkward, but if Wolfwood notices or cares, he doesn’t show it. He just grins at you before getting on his bike.

“Hey, I deal with people far stronger than you on a daily basis. My boss is Legato, remember? I’m sure I’ll be able to handle one lovely little Changeling holdin’ onto me.”

“Now who sounds like Vash?” You tease as you carefully get on behind him and, anticipating the hard, fast start, grab onto him as tightly as you can.

“Hey, I can’t help it. Needle Noggin gets into everyone’s system, whether they like it or not.” With that, Wolfwood starts up his motorcycle and drives off, the sky starting to lighten into a hazy, navy blue. Unsurprisingly, the second ride is even worse than the first one. Not that the cold, the speed, or the wind have really changed, but you’re so exhausted that it’s hard to keep your grip, especially when Wolfwood makes a sharp turn. You think you’re going to fall off more than once, but, thankfully, you manage to stay onboard for the whole ride, though you do have to stop yourself from just flopping off like a stuffed animal when Wolfwood stops nearby your house. “That’s gotta be a record!” He cries with an exuberant grin. “None o’ my lovely Angelina’s have ever gone this long without collapsing!”

“Maybe it’s a good sign.” You cut in, still holding onto Wolfwood, sitting for a few minutes until your limbs feel a little bit less like jelly. “Maybe your bike’s telling you that this whole scheme will work out perfectly, and we’ll all get to live. You’ll live to drive her another day, and the day after that.”

“Maybe.” Wolfwood replies, still grinning as he gives his bike a little pet. “Is that what you’re doing, honey? Thank you so much. This half-Angel could use a blessing from such an angelic bike.”

“You need all the blessings you can get too, Mr. Priest.” You reply, finally managing to slide off the bike, now that your legs feel a bit more solid. They’re still a bit wobbly, but they’re solid enough to hold you up, and it feels like they’ll get better the more you walk on them.

“We’ll all need as many damn blessings as we can get if we’re going to pull this off.” With that, Wolfwood revves up his bike, promises that he’ll see you in a couple of days, and bids you farewell before driving off. You watch him leave, exhausted, winded about the next step in your plan, and decide to test how well your wings can twitch. You reach your hand into your pocket and press the second button on your device, knowing that you’ll have to practice this so that you won’t be noticed or caught later on. As promised, they twitch, slightly flaring up, and you can’t help but reflexively shiver as Wolfwood becomes a tiny dot on the horizon.


	3. Meeting

Wolfwood waits three weeks before he tells Legato about his ‘discovery’, both so that it looks legitimate, and so that you can prepare for it on your end. You have to constantly write letters to your parents to convince them to tell Legato-‘a man with blue hair and yellow eyes’, you tell them-the lie that they’d found you in an abandoned alley when you were a baby if he ever decides to check on them.

‘I can’t tell you everything about this guy, both for your safety and mine. But I can tell you that if you tell him the truth, that I’m not an abandoned Changeling child, he’ll kill you, Dad, me, and my friends. If he isn’t stopped, his schemes will lead to the extermination of humanity. If he buys my story, though, he might be swayed to come over to our side, and if he does, I’ll make sure that he treats you like the Queen of seven thousand planets. You won’t want for anything, I promise.’ You write to your mother. It takes a few letters to persuade your parents to go along with your scheme, but, eventually, they say they’ll go along with it, both for your safety and theirs. The promise of living in luxury if you succeed probably doesn’t hurt matters. In between writing letters to your parents, you have to try to convince your coworkers not to blow your cover, which is even harder than convincing your parents to go along with your scheme. 

Some of them don’t care enough about your or your new wings to question you when you ask them to tell a blue-haired man that you’re a changeling, if he ever comes by asking about your wings. Others are curious and concerned, but when you tell them what Legato-or ‘this guy’ as you tended to refer to him, not wanting to use Legato’s real name in case he decided to probe your coworker’s mind to make sure you and Wolfwood weren’t lying to him-is capable of and that you’re hoping to turn him over a new leaf, they back off, wishing you luck and promising not to break your cover. 

A handful of people, however, for different reasons, refuse to support you in your endeavor, even after you’ve told them about Legato’s abilities. Marie, for example, has always hated your guts, and while she claims that she simply won’t be party to such a ridiculous scheme, the both of you know that she’d like nothing better than to see you gone, though you have no idea how she plans to avoid Legato’s wrath. Others, like Alex, just think that it’s ridiculous that you’re even trying to rehabilitate someone like Legato, and while you can’t exactly disagree with them, you do have to remind them that you’ll die if you’ll fail. In comparison, getting your landlady to go along with your story is a breeze-so long as you pay your rent on time and don’t cause any trouble, she doesn’t really care what story you want her to tell people about your wings. She’s even kind enough to help you modify all your shirts so that they have wing slits. After dealing with all of that, you’re too exhausted to try to tell anyone else in town to go along with your story, and you figure that it’s pretty pointless anyway. Even if you do see your neighbors a lot and a few of the shopkeepers on a regular basis, you can’t control the mind of everyone who lives in town. You simply have to rest and hope you can deal with Legato and whatever problems that come up along the way.

When Wolfwood finally tells Legato about you, it takes him a day or two to arrive, which puts him on pins and needles. It’s probably just because of the long travel time, and you try to calm down so that he doesn’t learn anything if you’re wrong and he is surveying you, along with the rest of the town, but you can’t help but feel like the anxious heroine in a gothic novel. Which you think Legato would probably enjoy on some sadistic level anyway. The day he arrives, he catches you completely by surprise. Not because you weren’t expecting him that day (you know that Legato would examine you sooner rather than later once he heard what Wolfwood had to say), but you’re easily startled, and Legato’s an oppressive, intimidating man, whether you’re expecting him or not, especially when he catches you off-guard coming around a corner, as Legato is probably wont to do. His yellow, uncaring eyes alone could turn bread to mush within minutes. 

You come to a halt, a little noise coming from the back of your throat, and try to calm down while you act like you’ve never heard of this man before, which isn’t terribly difficult to do when you’re startled. You have never seen him before.

“I’m sorry!” You say, trying to give Legato a genuine, apologetic smile. “I didn’t see you there. Can I help you find anything?” For a few moments, Legato doesn’t say anything, though it isn’t because he’s trying to use the oppressive and awkward silence for a power move. Instead, it seems like he’s looking over your semi-glimmering wings, and while his face is a little difficult to read, you’d bet that if it weren’t for the few social graces Legato follows when he’s trying to act like a regular person and his own feelings regarding ‘superior beings’, he’d be petting your wings right now, like a kid who’s never seen a pigeon before and immediately feels the urge to pet it. Once those moments pass, though, he gives you a smile, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentionally sardonic, or whether it’s just that naturally sour when Legato’s trying to pretend that he genuinely like humanity. Or, maybe Legato’s so horribly out of practice with smiling that he needs help learning how to do so again without creeping people out. You half-hope it’s that, though you’re not banking on it, since this whole scheme will be a battle up sixteen mountains if Legato either isn’t inclined to or already doesn’t believe your story.

“No, thank you. I’ve already found what I’m looking for. Tell me, are you really a Changeling?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You reply, knowing that you’d be more cautious towards this creepy-looking guy who willingly wears a human skull on his left arm and curious about why he was looking for you and interested in whether or not you were a Changeling if you really didn’t know him before. If this was anyone but Legato, you might have joked about the fact that they sounded like a character in a romance novel (what, were they interested in seducing you?), but, since you are dealing with Legato, you don’t. For one thing, you don’t think Legato would really appreciate a joke like that, especially from someone he already might not trust, and for another, the way it sounds is probably intentional. Legato seems like the kind of person who’d enjoy taking something that sounds romantic and seductive and injecting it with six different kinds of poisons, surrounding it with a menacing, suffocating air. “But who are you? And why have you been looking for me?”

“Forgive me for my manners.” Though, once again, you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely mocking you or not. “My name is Legato Bluesummers. I came here because one of my coworkers claimed that there was a person living in this town who claimed to be a Changeling. But..while your wings do look very impressive, I don’t think they’re enough to convince me. One of your coworkers claimed that you were simply trying to make yourself look better than everyone else. And while I might not believe her either, I have my own personal test to see whether or not people are in the roles that they claim they occupy. And you, Livia Langley, fail that test.” You try not to panic, try to stay calm so that if Legato decides to peek into your mind as well, he won’t learn anything. 

It’s clear that he’s already tried to use his telekinesis on your wings, but you have a ridiculous counter that you have to try, the biggest gamble you’ve ever made in your life. You don’t think it’ll work, but it’s either this and a later death, or accepting your fate at the hands of Legato right here and now. You just have to think of the most natural words to use, and the most normal tone and attitude to pretend to take for your scheme. Thankfully, you’re already pretty surprised and shocked, so you try to act surprised, puzzled, and a little indignant that he’s just rejecting what you are so quickly with a test that might not even be accurate. You know what it is, but he hasn’t even bothered to tell you what it is, which both shows his contempt for you and the high amount of faith he holds in his ‘test’. 

“Look, I have no idea what your test is, but it can’t be very much if it just involves looking at a person you don’t even know for five minutes. And it may not be that I’m a Changeling. For all I and my parents know, I could be some weird Angel’s baby. But, until I know better, I’m going to call myself a Changeling. It’s the label I’m most comfortable with at this point in my life. And a couple of people here don’t believe that I’m a Changeling. There are some people in town who don’t believe me or my parents. But just because you believe something doesn’t mean it’s true. And if I really wanted to make myself look better than everyone else, I’d probably actually give a damn about wearing makeup and keeping up with fashion. Do I look like the most fashionable person to you?”

“No,” Legato replies, taking your hand, and while he holds it gently, like you’re already lovers, you have to stop yourself from automatically pulling back, from smacking his hand away out of fear of what he might do to it, “but while my test might not look like anything right now, I have always been able to rely upon it. It has never lied to me. But, since you still have your doubts, I’ll humor you and perform it a second time.” Here, he lowers his voice, like he’s planning on this being the last thing you’ll ever hear, and that thought, along with his icy tone full of fake, hollow warmth and comfort, makes you shiver. You barely remember to slip your free hand in your pocket so that you can press the button to make your wings twitch, and it’s a minor miracle that Legato doesn’t notice. “I can control anything living with a thought. A mouse, a Tomas, your heart…I was even able to stop my Master once, though he managed to prove that he was superior with different demonstrations. He didn’t just slap himself with a pair of wings and call it a day. Not only is your acting pathetic, it’s an insult to my Master and his brother, however ridiculous and foolish he may be. You have to be punished for your transgressions towards them. So, let’s start with your fingers.”

You immediately close your eyes and flinch, expecting pain and gore and already mourning the loss of your hand, but..nothing happens. You feel fine. You open your eyes and look up at Legato, who seems to be just as dumbfounded as you are. “How did you manage to block me? I’ve never known anyone who was able to avoid my control if I did not want them to.” For once, he doesn’t actually sound like a sadistic murderer who’s comfortable with his place in the world, even if that place is under Knives boots, dragging the rest of humanity down with him. He sounds like a normal man, with one of the fundamental foundations of his life forever cracked, forever altered, unsure of where things might stand. You try to sound grounded and certain of yourself by comparison, like you’re just pointing something out to him again that you already knew, even if you’re frazzled in your own personal way. Your gamble just paid off. You’ve just pulled the most ridiculous victory from the jaws of defeat, your own life from the jaws of death. It’s hard to stay calm in the face of all that.

“Maybe it’s because I’m telling you the truth. Changeling or not, maybe your powers don’t work on me because I’m not really a human. I don’t think I’m superior to anyone, but I guess I’m different enough that your powers don’t work.” You might be running your mouth a bit here, and it’s doubtful whether or not you should have said your thoughts on your own superiority so soon, but your little proclamation does it’s job anyway. Legato, looking like someone has just slapped him with a rotting fish, bows down and kisses the hand he was about to destroy, his eyes closing like he’s in a romance novel. The whole gesture might have warmed your heart, if it weren’t coming from someone like Legato, if he hadn’t just tried to kill you, and if this wasn’t obviously playing into his issues.

“You are a superior being.” He says, his voice an apologetic murmur. “I am so sorry. I can never apologize enough for what I just tried to do to you. You don’t have to accept my apologies, but I shall accept any punishment you wish. Except..I know I don’t have the right to ask this of you, but I hope you’ll grant me the honor of hearing my request. Please, don’t kill me. My part in the play shall come to an end very soon, and a superior being like yourself shall end it, but I must stay alive a little bit longer to manage the rest of my troupe and the tragedy we intend to perform.”

“Legato, please, raise your head. Look at me.” You ask, a plan forming in your head as you gently touch his arm with your free hand, trying to encourage him, and as he slowly rises, looking like he expects to die and deserves it, you continue on. “I can’t forgive you for trying to kill me, but I’m not going to kill you. I don’t want you to die. But, it looks like you still have a lot of things to figure out about people and about yourself. So, will you go on a road trip with me for a year? I’ll pay for everything, but that’s the punishment I’d like to give you.”

“If that’s what you wish, then I’ll gladly follow you wherever you wish to go until the year is up.” He replies, finally letting go of your hand. “But you shouldn’t have to pay for a single thing. I’ll make sure you can have your road trip without wasting your money.”

“No, Legato.” You say, kindly, but firmly. “I’ll pay for things legally. And when I can’t pay for anything, we’ll both work so that we can keep going. That’s part of a good road trip. It’ll be half work-related anyway, so I don’t want you doing anything illegal. Moving on, it’ll take me a few days to get everything squared away, so you can live with me until everything is ready.”

“Alright.” He replies, his demeanor now the complete opposite of what it was before he thought you were a superior being. Even his voice is genuinely softer and kinder. “Then I’ll help you here with the books until you can go home.” True to his word, Legato stays by your side the rest of the day, doing his best to file things and help patrons find items when you ask him to take care of it for some reason, despite his unfamiliarity with the dewey decimal system, though you do have to sometimes tell him not to harm people who think you aren’t a Changeling when he whispers for your permission to do so. When the two of you finally get home, he asks to make you dinner like it’s the greatest privilege that could ever be bestowed upon him, and while you’re half-tempted, you tell him to sit on the couch and rest.

“There’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to cook once we start traveling. And it’ll be nice to talk to you while I work.” While he looks completely flabbergasted that he’s receiving such kind treatment, he still sits on the couch (though he doesn’t look comfortable about it), and tries to make small talk with you about your job as a librarian while you make spaghetti. Once it’s done, you quickly set the table, a small smile on your face, enjoying both the smell of the spaghetti and the satisfied, exhilarating feeling one gets when they’ve won a ridiculous amount of money at a game of blackjack that they were supposed to lose.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Langley, I can do that for you.”

“It’s alright.” You reply, setting down the last two pieces of silverware. “This doesn’t take me that long. But if you really want to do something nice for me, you could sit down at the table. How hungry are you?” As you keep speaking, you fill two glasses full of water and ice and set them down at your spots before moving to get out the plates.

“I..think I’m moderately hungry.” Legato answers as he moves from the couch to a seat at the table, still looking as awkward and out-of-place as a farmer on a sailboat. “I’m not starving.”

“Well, at least you brought something of an appetite with you.” You reply, piling two plates high with spaghetti before moving back to the table, setting Legato’s plate down in front of him before you sit down yourself and start putting pepper and parmesan cheese on your spaghetti. “So,” You start, done with spicing up your spaghetti and now spinning some onto your fork, “who is your Master, Legato? And why do you think we’re superior beings? I might be different than you, but I’m not any worse or better.”

“You are better than I am.” Legato firmly replies, like he’s telling you a solid scientific fact with sixteen different sources to back up his argument. “Changeling or not, you’re not human, just like my Master and his abominable brother. Humanity..we all should have died out long ago. There is no point in our existence, and if we had died sooner, the Earth and all it’s inhabitants might have lived on. Even the ones that survived our Exodus from Earth have a worse, diminished life here. They’re simply trying to survive in the stinking refuse heaps we dumped them in. We humans are nothing more than rotting piles of garbage. I can’t even imagine what impact humanity must have had on fairies and other creatures we did not believe in. If humanity had died out, perhaps your parents wouldn’t have abandoned you, and they and their families might have had easier lives. You could have kept living on Earth. I’m sure of that. Even now, humanity drains the life out of Plants that are sentient without even realizing or caring about it. 

And if there is an alternative, we don’t care enough to look for it, or we’re too stupid to find it or even think to do so. We simply keep doing the things we always do, regardless of whom we harm. We even harm or ignore members of our own species if we don’t like or understand them for petty reasons. We..even enjoy killing each other. I think it’s fun to murder and torture other humans. And you, my Master, and his brother could live forever for all we know. They have existed for at least a hundred years, and they might continue on forever. You might as well. You all see further than our petty human concerns. You all can actually plan and solve issues that we either can’t or won’t. When we all crumble into ashes, our books, our music..our civilization shall remain for you to archive and use. You can see where we failed and enjoy whatever fruits you can pull from the trash heap that could have been a thriving field full of fruits and vegetables, if we weren’t so stupid, petty, and short-sided.” At this point, you are almost finished with you dinner, while Legato has barely touched his food.

“You might enjoy hurting people, and I’ll admit that there are always going to be people who try to exploit others or deny the truth for one reason or another. I’m also not going to deny that humanity fucked up on Earth. We could have and should have done better. But humanity has a second home. There’s a second chance for them to learn and make things better here. And I don’t think most people know that Plants are sentient. Maybe if your group worked with them, they’d figure it out and discover some way to communicate with them so that they didn’t drain the life out of them. So that they could make their own decisions about what they wanted to do, and we could help them, human and not. If..humanity worked together, maybe they could figure out a way to terra-form the planet that didn’t hurt anyone, and they could pass laws that protected Plants from being exploited. 

I imagine that once we find some way to make this planet easier to live on without the exploitation of Plants, Gunsmoke will become a safer place to live. Or, at the very least, we’ll be able to put more energy into stomping out crime and other forms of exploitation. Humanity isn’t a trash heap yet. They’re beaten and broken, and they’ve made a shitton of mistakes, but things aren’t over and done with yet either. The tide could still turn for the better. The fact that you think there’s value in your Master, his brother, and I archiving the works of humanity is proof of that, however much you might enjoy harming others. You aren’t trash either.”

“If you truly believe that, then you’re as stupid and naïve as my Master’s brother.” Legato replies in between bites, though he doesn’t sound quite as irritated as you thought he might be. He sounds like a disappointed, semi-annoyed Mary Poppins, not a man full of rage planning on harming everyone you love and psychologically traumatizing you. Maybe the big difference is that Vash has tried to kill his brother, and you’ve never even met Knives, never mind laying a finger on him.

“If you really think that,” You say, finishing off your dinner, “then you’ll have to try to convince me while we’re on our road trip. Though I think you’ll have a pretty difficult time. Speaking of your Master, though, you never did tell me who he is.” As Legato replies, you stand up and wander over to the stove so that you can help yourself to a second plate of spaghetti before sitting back down. Harrowing conversation or not, it’s been a long day, and you’re starving. You’re going to have more spaghetti.

“He’s a sentient, independent Plant named Knives.” While a stupid joke goes through your mind about how it’s not that surprising that a man named Knives hired someone like Legato, you aren’t stupid enough to actually say it. “His brother tried to kill him because he realized how disgusting and worthless the human race really is and tried to exterminate them. He’s recovering at the moment, though I won’t say where. I hope you’re not as foolish as he is.”

“I don’t think so.” You lie. You’d definitely try to kill someone who wanted to kill humanity if you couldn’t talk them out of it and they could actually do it. “I can’t really say without meeting him. I hope you’ll be able to introduce the two of us someday, though.”

“If my Master is generous enough to let me, I would be honored to take you to him when he recovers. Until then, would it be alright if I had some more spaghetti?”

“Of course!” You reply, swallowing another mouthful. “Help yourself. There’s plenty over there. Take as much as you want.”

“Thank you so much. You truly have been far too generous with this meal. It’s quite delicious too.” With that, Legato stands up with his plate and moves over to get a second helping.

“You’re welcome. I don’t think I’ve been that generous, though. This is a pretty regular meal. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much.” With nothing else to say (and probably still feeling a bit awkward about being this casual with a superior being), Legato silently sits back down, and the two of you finish eating in a semi-comfortable atmosphere. You’d like to convince Legato of his and humanity’s worth and equal value to Vash and Knives, but you know that’s not going to happen in a day. You just have to hope that your scheme with the road trip pays off. When the two of you are finished, Legato insists on cleaning up, and this time, you take him up on his offer. “I don’t really mind doing it myself, but I’ve always been really slow when it comes to dish washing. If you want to do it, that’d be a big help.” As he washes up, you quietly examine your bookshelf, looking for something good to read and something to help you relax and feel less awkward, and eventually, you settle on Life of Pi. You’ve read it already (dozens of times, really), but it’s a good book, and god knows that the writing is delicious and captivating, despite it’s subject matter.

Eventually, Legato finishes washing up and turns around to look at you, looking more than a bit lost and unsure of what to do next. “I know there’s not much to do here, but I have plenty of books, if you want to read something, and if you don’t, I have tons of music and a few radio shows you can listen to. Hell, I don’t even mind if you go out, so long as you come back in time for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I don’t believe I have to go out, but..would you do me the honor of letting me borrow your phone for a little while? I’ll pay, if they decide to charge me something for it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You reply, a genuine smile on your face. “I’ll take care of it if it isn’t included in my regular bill. But I don’t mind if you borrow my phone. Make as many calls as you need to. Oh, and if you get hungry later, help yourself to whatever you want. I think I still have some cake, if you’d like that for dessert.”

“Thank you so much.” He replies, bowing like you’ve just given him the best standing ovation he could ever hope for. “You really have been far too kind to someone like me.” Before you can reply to that, he picks up the phone and starts turning the dial, and you can’t help but wonder whether he did that on purpose so that he didn’t have to listen to your statements arguing otherwise. Whether or not that’s the case, though, you try to half-read your book so that you can listen in on Legato’s conversation without getting caught. 

He talks to someone named Midvalley-and you hope you can get more information about him from Wolfwood later-and says that their plans have changed, that their script shall have to be put off for an entire year. “I know that sounds like a long time,” he says, “but I managed to find another superior being, and I treated her like she was nothing more than a measly, disgusting cockroach. I must be punished, and since the punishment she chose for me will take a year to fulfill, I will gladly set aside a year for her. In the meantime, I shall entrust you with the rest of our company. It is up to you to make sure that their acting skills do not suffer and that our set pieces and stage don’t rot away while I’m gone. Do you think you can handle all of that, Midvalley?” While Legato’s voice is soft, as always, he slips back into his cold, empty edge while he’s on the phone, and you can’t help but shiver slightly again and wonder whether he’ll remain that way when he gets off the phone. Since Legato isn’t actually looking for a ‘no’ here, the voice on the other end of the phone sounds positive, and Legato smiles to himself. It’s a tiny, cold, pitiless smile, but it’s there. “Good. I’m pleased to hear that. I’ll be in touch with you whenever I can be. I’ll see you soon.”

After a few moments, Legato hangs up and turns his attention back to you, the smile gone from his face. When he speaks, his voice is genuinely warm and unsure again, and while it makes you happy, it also reminds you just how unstable Legato really is-one slip-up will be the difference between life and death here, even if his powers don’t affect you. “Thank you again for letting me use your phone. I hope they don’t add anything onto your bills.” While that’d be a genuinely nice statement with no threat behind it if it came from a normal person, you get the feeling that Legato would threaten and kill people if the phone companies added so much as a single cent to your bills. Hell, he might threaten people if he gets it into his head that you shouldn’t have to pay for anything because you’re a superior being.

“Don’t worry! It’ll probably be fine.” You reply, hoping to mitigate and lessen any possible damage. “And if it isn’t, I’ll take care of it. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Miss Langley.” Legato says, his tone becoming a shade darker as he moves over to the bookshelf. “You shouldn’t have to pay for the expenses of a piece of trash, and these deplorable dumpster fires shouldn’t be allowed to charge you anything at all.” And here comes what you were just worrying about.

“Whether or not these companies are dumpster fires, I should still pay for the services I get from them. Their employees work hard for that money, and without it, we wouldn’t have a lot of the public services we have today. Libraries would have a lot less funds if it weren’t for taxes and people properly paying their bills. That’s how human society functions, and since I like humanity and want to make sure that employees can have a good life, I pay my bills. Plus, we have no idea how many of those employees are really superior beings. They could be all around us, and we wouldn’t know. And you aren’t a piece of trash, Legato. You might have flaws, but you aren’t trash.”

“You do make a very good point there, Miss Langley. Now that I know about you, I can see how it can be better to treat people like they are Angel’s unaware.” Legato says, pointedly ignoring your last sentence. It annoys you, but you decide to let it go. Not that you wouldn’t like to get on Legato’s case about it, but there probably isn’t any point in deciding to do so right now. You two are at an impasse. You’ll just have to let it go and hope that you’ll have better opportunities to change his mind on the road trip. You let out your frustration in a little sigh instead as Legato picks up The Master and Margarita. “How is this book?” He asks. “It looks interesting.”

“That’s a wonderful book!” You exclaim, your irritation easing a little. “You should give it a try. I won’t mind if you decide that it’s not for you, but I’d be happy if you gave it a chance. Everyone should try The Master and Margarita before they die. And I think you’ll like it. It’s satirical, but it’s not a complete tragedy either. It’s bittersweet. You’ll just have to know that Communist Russia tried to stomp out all religion and force the country to be atheist so that they’d focus more on the party and it’s message and bottom line. Otherwise, parts of the book won’t impact you as much.”

“Thank you, Miss Langley. I don’t believe I knew that before today. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind, and I promise you that I won’t harm any of your books while I’m with you.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t. And even if you do, we can both try to repair them together.”

“You shouldn’t have to clean up after my mistakes, Miss Langley.” Legato replies as he sits down beside you, his voice firm as he says your name, like he’s trying to remind you of your proper place in the pecking order. Who is he trying to be like, Mrs. Danvers? Thankfully, you’d like to think that you have more backbone than the main heroine of the novel.

“But I’d like to help you clean them up.” You say, your tone just as firm. “Plus, I’m a bibliophile. If one of my books does get damaged, I’d like to try to repair it. And if you’re with me, that’s just an added bonus.”

“…I see.” Legato eventually replies, his voice quiet, and you’d bet that he has no idea why his presence would be an added bonus for you, or why you’d like to help him clean up, other than your love of books in general. With that, though Legato turns his attention back to the book in his hands, and you try to get back to your reading, hoping that Pi’s lessons about and dealings with Richard Parker will give you a few ideas on how to deal with Legato. Eventually, the usual time for your evening tea comes around, and you stand up and put your book away, half-grateful for the interruption to your reading. Not that Life of Pi is bad, but you’re not sure you’re really in the mood for it, and the atmosphere with Legato is still a bit strained.

“I’m going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?” You ask him.

“Of course. Thank you so much. I’ll be grateful for any cup of tea you give me.” 

“Alright, then.” While that’s probably the best answer any superior being, real or not, can expect out of Legato, it’s the worst possible answer one can give to any host or chef. People who say that they’ll be happy with ‘just anything’ or that they ‘don’t care’ usually aren’t completely happy with whatever you decide to give them because they do care. As you wander into the kitchen, you decide to just give Legato a cup of English Breakfast tea, just to be safe. Maybe you’ll try giving him a cup of mint tea later, but for now, it’s the time-tested English Breakfast. You put the water on, and as it heats up, you get out two teacups, and put two teabags in them-one with English Breakfast tea in it, and the other with Chai, your preferred evening tea. With everything prepped and ready, you go back to your reading, jumping up with a little cry as you always do when the kettle finally whistles and surprises you. Then, just as always, you race towards it, turn the burner off, and pour the hot water into both cups, leaving enough room for the milk, before putting the kettle down on another burner.

Through all this, Legato is silent, even though most people would probably jump at your reaction to the kettle and tease you about it. He just keeps reading, but while most people might say that he was being stoic and cold, you can’t help but wonder whether or not he’s being quiet because he doesn’t want to disturb the peace and routine of a superior being. You’d bet that if you told him that it was time for you to set off fireworks, he’d go along with it, despite the fact that there’s no reason for you to set off fireworks this evening.

As the tea steeps, you read to pass the time, but when it’s finished, you take the teabags out and pour some milk into both cups before stirring in three spoonfuls of sugar for both you and Legato. “I’m going to make some popcorn.” You tell Legato, peeking your head around the corner of the kitchen. “Would you like some cake to go with your tea? Or would you like something else?”

“I would love a slice of cake,” Legato replies, “but if you can’t give me that, I’ll gratefully accept any other snack you see fit for me to have.”

“Don’t worry! There’s plenty of cake for you to eat.” With that, you tuck your head back into the kitchen and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. As you’re waiting for it to finish popping, you cut a slice of chocolate cake for Legato and pull out a big bowl for your popcorn. Once it’s done and you’ve pulled your popcorn out of the microwave and dumped it into your bowl, you bring Legato’s tea and his slice of cake out to him, the cake on a little white plate with a fork beside it. “Here you go!” You exclaim, holding the tea and cake out for him to take, which he does, after setting his book beside him.

“Thank you so much. I really should have been the one to prepare your evening snack.”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry about it. You’re my guest, and I like you, so I’m more than happy to get a snack for you. And like I said, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to cook for me once we’re on the road.” With that, you head back into the kitchen to get your own snack before plopping down beside Legato again, your teacup in your left hand, your bowl of popcorn snug in your crossed lap, and your right hand free to shove popcorn in your mouth. As you shove the first few kernels into your mouth, Legato looks down at the tea and cake in his hands before slowly facing you with a questioning, apologetic look, like it’s wrong for him to even think about asking you a question.

“Please forgive me for my insolence, Miss Langley, but..is it alright for us to eat like this?”

“It is.” You reply, swallowing a mouthful of popcorn. “Of course, if you don’t want to eat at the couch, you can always eat at the table. I’m not going to force you to eat in a specific spot. And it’s probably harder for you to eat on the couch anyway, since you’ve got cake and tea.”

“You’re exactly, perfectly right, Miss Langley. I believe I’ll sit in the kitchen, then. Thank you so much for permitting me to do so.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply with a smile. After he’s heard and seen your response, Legato quietly stands up and goes into the kitchen so that he can properly sit at the table and eat without making a mess. You go back to munching on your popcorn, drinking some of your tea when your mouth gets too dry and salty, but while the two of you are in separate rooms, it feels like the tension has eased somewhat. Maybe Legato somewhat relaxes around food? You doubt it, but you’re glad for the extra bit of relaxation, no matter what the real reason is. When Legato finishes, you hear him washing his dishes and setting them on the drainer before he decides to come back to you, his face as stoic and neutral as any superior being whose name is not Knives could hope.

“Thank you again for dessert. You’ve been far too generous with me. Where would you like me to sleep tonight, though? I’ll rest anywhere you wish me to.” Your first thought is your own bed, to try and help Legato get more used to the idea, since you’ll probably have to share beds on your trip. But you decide not to go there tonight. Legato’s had a hard, trying day enough as it is. You’ll go easy on him tonight.

“I’d like you to sleep on the couch, if you don’t mind.” You reply, before continuing on, an important thought only now crossing your mind. “Come to think of it, did you even bring any of your own clothes with you, Legato? You can’t sleep in what you’re wearing, and you’re going to have to change your clothes at some point.”

“Forgive me, Miss Langley.” Legato replies, bowing to you for a moment. “I didn’t think I would be staying here or with you for very long, so I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Even if I did, they’re all variations on a theme.”

“Well, we’ll have to get you some new clothes in the morning, then. It’s not good for you to have an entire wardrobe that looks nearly identical, especially if you’re traveling.” You reply, smiling up at him to show that you’re not mad, just concerned. “In the meantime, you can borrow a pair of my pajamas.”

“Please, Miss Langley. You need not do that. I don’t want to sully your clothes with my disgusting skin.” As Legato speaks, you set the bowl of popcorn aside on the couch and get up, your tea still in hand and your smile still on your face as you head into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to sully my clothes just by wearing them. And if you think you’re that filthy, you can borrow my bathtub before you go to bed.” With that, you set your teacup down on the table and wash your greasy hands before coming out again. “This way.” You say, directing Legato as you wander down the hallway that leads to the bathroom and your bedroom, and while you can’t see him behind you, you can hear him follow you to the door, which you open for him, stepping behind it as you do so so that he can come in behind you, as you think every polite host should. You wish you cleaned up before Legato came home, but it’s too late now. The numerous book piles on the floor, along with the notebooks and stacks of paper are there for him to see and judge, along with the messes on top of your drawers and the messy stack of papers on top of one side of your desk, your writing spot. 

At least your clothes are all clean, so you don’t have to worry about that as you search through your pajama drawer, looking for something for Legato to wear. As usual, he remains silent as you look, even though there are probably a lot of comments and questions regarding the state of your room floating around in his head right now. But, even though he doesn’t voice them, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed and ashamed of your lack of cleanliness. Silent or not, a negative judgment never feels good.

After a few moments, you pull out your light-blue pajama set with little French-inspired designs on them, like the Eiffel Tower and small glasses of wine. Just because humanity left Earth doesn’t mean that it stopped making clothes or writing novels that used the culture from it in some way. Plus, more importantly, they’re extremely comfortable. “Here we are!” You cry with a little awkward smile, holding the pajamas out to Legato, who accepts them, though he doesn’t look like he’s too impressed with them. “I’m not sure if the shirt will fit, but you can at least give it a shot. If it doesn’t, I’ll just find a different top for you to wear, if you want one. You can change in the bathroom. It should be on your right.” You’re pretty sure that the bottom will fit, since you’ve got a lot of fat on your hips, butt, and legs, and Legato is a lot more slim and buff than you are, but you’re not sure about that shirt, since it might be a bit too small for him. Plus, he is about the same size as Vash, which might not help matters in the size department.

“Thank you so much, Miss Langley. You don’t have to loan me another top if this one doesn’t fit, though. I don’t want to soil any more of your clothes.”

“You won’t soil them just by wearing them. And I’d be happy to loan you a different top if that one doesn’t fit.”

“I see.” Legato replies, his tone a bit disapproving. He might be trying to hide his disapproval, but it still comes through. “I’ll get changed as quickly as I can, then.” With that, he heads down the hall to the bathroom, and as you wait, you put your hands in your pockets. A few minutes later, he comes back, his coat and shoes off and missing. You feel a bit lucky that you stuck your hands in your pockets, since it looks like your night shirt didn’t fit Legato (though the pants do, as you suspected they would), and instead of coming back wearing his regular shirt, he decided to come back wearing no shirt at all, and for all his faults and issues, you do have to admit that Legato is ridiculously hot. As you happily exclaim, you press the button in your pocket that’ll make your wings flap, hoping Legato will think they’re flapping in unexpected delight, even if he doesn’t understand or approve of it.

“Holy shit!” You cry out, your tone full of warmth and mirth as you take a step back. “I might not give you another shirt, Legato. You really do look great underneath all that.” His expression is it’s usual unrevealing, cold self, but Legato’s voice sounds a bit more..uncomfortable, rather than cold or disapproving, for one reason or another.

“…Thank you, Miss Langley. If you really don’t want me to wear a shirt, I won’t, if it will please you.”

“Sorry.” You reply, not exactly sure how to apologize here, since you don’t know exactly why Legato is uncomfortable (though you can think of a few reasons), but still sincerely doing it, since you don’t really want Legato to be uncomfortable or unhappy. At least, when it comes to being admired for his looks. “I was half-joking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. As promised, I’ll find another top for you to wear.” You go back to searching in your pajama drawer as Legato replies, a specific top actually in mind.

“Thank you, Miss Langley. However, you don’t have to apologize to vermin like me. I would consider it an honor and your birthright if you decided to grind me under your heels like the cockroach that I am, even if I do not wish to die at the moment. I still think it’s ridiculous that you think humanity-that people like me should continue to exist. That we can actually learn from the follies we’ve made and improve things.”

“It might be ridiculous, but I’d still like to believe that. You know, Legato, when I was a kid, I promised myself that I’d always be an optimist and an idealist because it seemed to me that cynicism was just an easy way for people to give up, to throw their hands in the air and declare that the world was a fucked-up place beyond saving, and there was no point in trying to change it or better other people’s lives because it couldn’t be changed and it could never get better for anyone. I’ve always thought that was bullshit. And, even if it might seem ridiculous to other people, it seemed to me that idealism, optimism, and hope declared that things could get better, that all wasn’t shit just yet. 

They acknowledged that it’ll take a lot of hard work, but it seemed to me that those schools of thinking thought that hard work would actually lead to a better outcome in the end. It’d take hard work, education, and fighting against people and groups that harmed others, tried to keep their heads in the sand about scientific information or the ways they were hurting people, or tried to deny people’s access to that information, but things could improve, according to those schools of thought. The world could get better, and everyone’s lives could improve. It still seems that way to me, and that’s why I haven’t broken my promise. You can call me ridiculous for believing it, but I think things can get better for all of us. I want things to get better for all of us-even for you.” You find the night shirt you were looking for-a large, white one with a picture of a cat resting on the moon on it that’s big even for you, even if it is old and has a couple of holes-while you and Legato are talking, and as you finish speaking, you hold it out to him. Thankfully, he takes it, but with a melancholy, lonely look, like you were his first love, and you just rejected him.

“What a comical way of life.” He mutters as he puts on the shirt, and you can’t tell whether he’s about to cry or start seriously arguing with you. “Tell me, Miss Langley, what is the point of trying to improve things for the human race when we’ll only die out very soon? I can understand why you would want to improve the world for yourself, my Master, and his brother, but..what point is there in continuing to hope for us to change when we’ve proven time and time again that we cannot? That we enjoy causing pain and suffering for others? Humanity is going to die anyway, Miss Langley. It should have a very long time ago. So, please, tell me, what is the worth of your promise regarding humans? I don’t think there’s any reason for you to do it for us. You’re a superior being.”

“The point is,” You reply, “that even if humanity will die out at some point, they can live doing the best they can towards others, themselves, and the planet they live on. There’s still time for humanity to learn from it’s mistakes and discover new things, and if they work hard, they can make things better for everyone, live better lives, and go extinct leaving Gunsmoke and the creatures that live on it a little better than when they first found them. I’m not saying that we’ll be able to stop all the violence or that there’ll never be people who enjoy it. I’m not wholly expecting you to change that aspect of yourself, either. But, if humanity is going to die at some point, don’t you think your Master, his brother, and I would enjoy archiving a history of cooperation, hard work, joy, love, and standing up for the good in the world as opposed to one where humanity devolved into a pack of wolves who devoured each other for fun and profit?”

“…I don’t know.” Legato quietly replies, looking down at the ground for a moment. “I don’t believe my Master would enjoy that sort of achieve.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You say, like you don’t know that Legato is actually right about which archive of humanity he would prefer. “But I can tell you which one I’d prefer storing and enjoying for all time, and it’s not the one filled with violence and apathy. That’s the worth my promise holds to me, and that’s the point in continuing to hope for humans and trying to improve things. Besides, I don’t think it’s time for the human race to die out yet. I don’t think it’s time for you to die out yet. I like you. I know you have a lot of faults, but I’d still like to be your friend.”

“…I see.” Legato says after a few moments, looking more awkward and sad than enraged, like a depressed kid at a party where he doesn’t know anyone. “I don’t think you should lower yourself to being my friend, Miss Langley, but..we shall see. I apologize if I’ve angered you, though. I think I’ll turn in early and try to get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Ah, goodnight! Sleep well!” You reply as quickly as you can, but he’s already turned around and wandered down the hallway and into the bathroom, probably to pick up his clothes before he goes into the living room. You sigh and close the door as you evaluate your current situation. It’s good that he thinks you’re a superior being, and it seems like he’s this close to agreeing with your statements, but..it’s like his own feelings, his loyalty to Knives, or both keep holding him back. Logically, you know that you’ll just have to keep reaching out to him and trying to get through to him over time, but..it’s just hard to emotionally accept that when you think that you’ve just seen him be three steps away from opening up to you and agreeing with what you’re saying. Even now, the way he ran away was like a shaken, scared, conflicted child.

Exhausted and drained yourself, you decide to hit the hay. You change out of your clothes, put them in the hamper, and put on your old, cozy, pink nightgown (which is also full of holes), before navigating your way over to the bed and tucking yourself under your cozy, warm duvet, too exhausted to really think anymore. You close your eyes, and after a little while of enjoying the warmth of your bed, you fall asleep. 

So ends the day that you and Legato first meet.


End file.
